The Scorpion
by books4evah
Summary: Mortals make mistakes, and so do the gods. A story of impulsive love, archery, twins, and innocence. ArtemisxOrion and ApolloxOC. Glossary of characters included.
1. The Scorpion

43

AN: So… this is my MYP project (this thing that's kind of sort of part of the IB program—if you don't know what that is, look it up or something, I don't feel like explaining). I've been working on this for the past few months, so no time to write another fanfic. I do have a very basic idea for another one, but you might not see that for like a year or something. I don't know. Just don't get your hopes up. So, because I don't have anything else to give you, I shall give you this. You are actually the third person to get this, did you know? I don't turn it in for like a month. So there may be a few typos. Anyway, it's different from my usual work. It's not Harry Potter. I'm planning on getting a profile on Fanfiction's sister site, Fictionpress, which is like fanfiction, but for original works, and putting this up on that, but I have not done this yet, and right now I am throwing this up really quickly before falling straight asleep. Because I am very tired. So, enjoy! (Oh, and heads up: it's not that funny. Just to let you know.)

**The Scorpion**

_By books4evah_

You may be wondering why it is me who is narrating this story. You may be repulsed by who I am, and decide to forgo this tale for the sake of avoiding me. You may tell me I am mistaken, and that it is the Muses, not me, who should be describing the epic doings of the heroes and the gods.

You have not realized it is only I who can tell this story. The Muses are not only overtaken with their grief for the loss of Calliope's son, Orpheus, but are rather unable to tell the story like I can. The Muses are the pets of the gods, weaving tales, and singing songs of the good deeds and heroic works of the gods and their descendents. The only being they can look darkly upon is Hades, cursed to rule the depths of hell forever. The Muses, for fear of their livelihood, could never tell the mistakes of the gods, or admit they have a human side.

And that is why I tell this story. I am Ate, goddess of foolish actions. The goddess thrown down for doing my duty, for simply giving the consequences of a rash action, as I was brought to this world to do. Zeus couldn't stand me; and if not him, then none of the gods. I was thrown down to the earth, forever to walk on the ground, giving the humans the just rewards of their stupidity. But, contrary to what the gods have assumed, they are susceptible to thoughtlessness; and my precedence permeates the whole of existence, from the smallest snail to the most engorged giant.

This is the unique, and as of yet untold tale of how negligence affects even the brightest of the bright, the darkest of the dark, and everything in between.

In the beginning, we have a woman. A lonely goddess, minor, and almost unknown, with no powers to make her different from the rest, or more worthy of praise. This neglect, bordering almost on abuse, led her to fall to the sweet and caring attention of a man, a powerful man, god of all gods, light of all lights. She swooned to his will, and was soon in his bed.

Maybe Leto was brash in her decision, but one had to give into the mighty Zeus sometime. But, as she gave in to his desires more and more, the attention came less and less. She had become addicted to the attention, basked in it, felt whole again. Still, the care and the love stoically decreased, and she slowly felt lonelier again. Knowing something must be done to protect her heart, she did what a number of women might do in her situation. She became pregnant. And Zeus' attention quickly snapped back to her, his voice with even more of a caressing tone.

Zeus' wife, Hera, though, would die before adding a touch of lightness in her voice. Famous for her jealously, Hera flew into a rage, charging all the lands in the world to deny Leto refuge. And Leto was forever on cursed, to wander the world endlessly, from land to land, unable to stay and rest, and give birth.

The other gods, though, pitied poor Leto. Zeus' older brother, the mighty Poseidon, ruler of the seas, and king of all the creatures within, rose an island, called Delos, with nothing but a single palm tree adorning it. As it was still floating, and not yet a solid land, Leto was permitted to stay and rest there. Hera, though, retaliated, prohibiting Ilithyia, the goddess of childbirth, from visiting the incredibly pregnant Leto. But, with the offering of a beautiful gold necklace from the other goddesses, made by Aphrodite's husband, Hephaestus, Hera was swayed, and in her distraction, Ilithyia was whisked down to attend to Leto.

Leto first gave birth to a girl, named Artemis, lovely and dark like the moon, and soon to become the goddess of the hunt, and all wild animals. Then Leto gave birth to a twin, a boy, named Apollo, who was fair and golden as the sun. He was to be the god of music, light, and reason.

The sight of these two, new children tugged at Zeus' heartstrings, and he gave each a bow and a quiver full of arrows, Artemis' silver, and soft as moonbeams, Apollo's gold, and piercing as the rays of the sun. The little island of Delos was blessed, and burst forth with all kinds of grass and flowers, quickly becoming the most plentiful Greek island.

As Leto lived on, forbearing her punishment from Hera, Apollo and Artemis carried on with their lives. Apollo slayed great dragons, chased beautiful nymphs, and became the patron of the oracle, whereas Artemis lived a quiet, more humble life, hunting with her companions each night, promising never to marry.

You may see this ending as happy. You may decide that it was a lovely story, and wander off. You may even accuse me of plagiarizing, stating this story belongs to the Muses. But, as I stated, this was only the beginning of the story. The Muses will never tell you the minor downfall of these characters. They fear the gods, having seen the likes of Prometheus, and myself, thrown down by those above them. The Muses can't see for themselves, and everything they do is shaped around their superiors. That is why I am here.

"You killed another mortal today," Athena said gravely, from behind Artemis, who startled at the sudden comment.

Collecting herself, Artemis replied coolly. "He deserved it."

"Like all the other men you've killed?"

"He saw me _bathing_, Athena. I'm the patron goddess of virgins. I'm not some whore like Aphrodite, who all can see in that way."

Athena narrowed her eyes. "Be careful talking like that. Even Aphrodite can exact a revenge you wouldn't like."

Artemis sighed. "This hunter, Actaeon, I think his name was, saw me bathing. I had to do to him what I do to everyone. It was just. You are the goddess of that, aren't you?"

"Actaeon? Artemis, you know he was one of your brother's favorites. He won't be pleased."

"What about all my maids, who my dear brother chased, even though he knew they would spurn him? So many turned into trees, and rivers, and whatnot, because my brother is so stubborn when it comes to love. Everyone pities him, not those poor girls, or me."

"Artemis, part of being wise is learning to forgive," Athena said solemnly, preparing to start her usual lecture.

"Don't start on me. You don't forgive either. Remember Arachne? You turned her into a spider because her weaving was better than yours."

Athena opened her mouth to protest, but Artemis continued. "Some mortals just have more respect than others, and the ones who don't have respect we must teach respect to."

"Speaking of the respectful mortals," Hestia interrupted, holding a vase full of something; "Orion seems to have made another offering to you."

Artemis smiled. "This must be the fifth in two days."

"He is rather penitent," Hestia agreed. "Though it stacks up the work for me."

And with that, Hestia walked back to her hearth, while Athena sized up the vase. "I understand your point about how the mortals who don't have ample respect must be punished, but I must say that the respectful ones should be rewarded."

"So, you're saying I should…"

"Pay a visit to this Orion."

Back down on the earth, miles away from the bottoms of Mount Olympus, were a mother and a daughter, collecting flowers for an upcoming feast.

The daughter, a lovely and reticent girl, sniffed the flowers, a smile spreading across her face, looking very much like the type of maiden that a god would spirit away to marry, and softly told her mother, "The crocuses are wonderful."

The mother, a woman by the name of Niobe, a daughter of the house of Atreus, and the bride of Amphion, whose life was so perfect, that to a god-fearing person, it would be a curse of a life, as it balanced precariously, as if at the top of a steep slope, ready to tumble right back to the earth below, replied in a polite, and almost forced manner, "Thank you, Meliboea. Though, they of course aren't as pretty as the blossoms from Delos."

"Mother, surely they are second best," Meliboea quickly reassured, knowing the signs of her mother's distress. "Besides, Delos is Leto's island. Those flowers are the flowers of the gods. You know mortal flowers could never stand a chance."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "I have seven times the number of children Leto has. Why should the flowers of a woman like me, mortal as I may be, be second to hers?"

Meliboea's eyes widened, and before she could put more ideas in her mother's head, she turned quickly back to her gathering. As she plucked a richly colored hyacinth, she hoped her mother's blasphemous suggestions would soon die away.

"So, how are my nine favorite ladies?" a resonating voice asked, from down the long, golden corridor.

"Apollo!" the ladies in question exclaimed, dashing over to the glowing god.

"Wonderful to see I'm still loved," he chuckled.

One of the women smiled. "Yes, I have noticed none of your trysts have gone well, have they? I still have yet to write a good poem of one of your romances."

"Erato!" One of her sisters said indignantly, elbowing Erato. "You can't say something like that!"

"You, Clio," Erato replied, "are a stick in the mud."

"That's what too much history does to a person," another laughed. "But I find it rather funny, don't you, Melpomeme?"

Melpomeme raised her eyebrow. "You would, Thalia. But I am not a comedian, like you. You know I prefer tragedy."

Thalia sighed. "You're almost as petty as Clio about these things. I am quite sure that Calliope has had enough of writing her epics on your tragic little stories. Really. This world needs to laugh more. Laughter is the best medicine after all!"

"No, it's definitely dance," another girl said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, as she twirled around her sisters gracefully.

"Terpsichore, I might just have to get rid of the competition then," Thalia cried, teasingly, beginning a chase after her sister.

It was all rather nauseating, in the way those sisters are. Happiness is not my forte, as you might suspect. So, clearly, I was quite glad when Apollo intervened.

"Ladies! You'll break something! And you know Hephaestus would not like that!"

The muses sighed, and lined up.

"I thought we might start with Dionysus' favorite hymn. His mother is coming up to Olympus soon. Euterpe, if you could provide the music…?"

Once the muses opened their mouth, the most enchanting song came out. The voice of inspiration, lead by the god of music was not to be taken lightly. No mortal or immortal could compare. To describe it would fail. It would be blasphemous to try, as anyone's description would make it seem worse than it ever could be. I may not like the muses, but not even I can deny the prowess of their music.

"Stop…you seem distracted. Urania, what is going on?"

The goddess in question raised her eyes to Apollo, in her ever-defiant manner. "The stars show a lot of pain, and change."

Thalia elbowed Melpomeme, smirking.

"I was merely wondering who it was related to; someone important, it seems."

Apollo raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. As he raised his hands to conduct the heavenly choir once more, another sound, premature to the rest of the choir, struck his ears, and he turned away from his business, once more, to look at Polyhymnia.

The muse in question blushed, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"That was a lovely sound, but where did it come from? I assure you it was not what we were singing."

"I…"- her blush raged even deeper-"it was just a song I've been hearing lately…"

"Not your own?" asked a surprised Apollo.

"Well… I heard it from a mortal."

"What is it?"

With obvious embarrassment for the interrogation at hand, Polyhymnia grasped her arm, saying, "It was a song of praise… for you."

Apollo was struck at the thought of a song so wonderful, for him, not his father or Athena or one of the more important gods. Polyhymnia, on the other hand, her face red and flushed, scooted behind the tallest of her sisters, trying to avoid an excess of attention on herself.

"Wait," Apollo said, stopping the muse in her tracks. "One last question, what is this mortal's name?"

Polyhymnia bit her lip, and slowly squeaked out, "_Meliboea_."

He raised his bow to eye level, steadying himself. Silently, he took a cautious step towards the deer, his prey never leaving his sight. The hunter must be quiet and stealthy. He was almost there, close enough to-

_Crunch._

The sound of the fallen leaf he had stepped on was loud enough for his target, which scampered away, alarmed.

Groaning in frustration, Orion ran after the stag, leaping over fallen trees and shrubberies. But the deer was too fast for him, an ironic thing, as it was Orion who had cleared the island of Chios of all wild beasts. Orion cringed at the memory, tripping over a root from the momentary lack of attention. Orion had won his ex-fiancée by clearing those woods. Days of work, wasted, for that one, near-flawless specimen of a woman. But she had fled with her father at the first stupid mistake of his. Albeit, it was a very stupid mistake. Only Orion could get drunk and insult his future bride. Not only did that stupid mistake cost him his bride, it cost him his sight, until he was able to gain it back through the grace of the gods.

Nothing could be done, though. All had been said and done, and Orion's stupidity was set in stone. All he had left to do was to do what he did best. Hunt.

Orion grew up an outcast. Bigger than all of the other children, he did not quite fit in, and was not so mean-spirited as to bully the other children for a semblance of fitting in. So, all alone, Orion turned to the woods, spending days at a time out and alone, determinedly stalking one prey. Those days taught him perseverance, to never give up on something. He also learned the almighty power of Artemis. She was stubborn, like him, and he saw quickly that when he entreated for her help, and hunted under her benediction, that it was almost as if the world was on his side, and the kill was what he was born to do.

He had never met Artemis personally, and never expected to; she was a beautiful, graceful, if somewhat detached goddess, and he, a lonely hunter. But he still felt close to her, as if he knew her better than almost anyone, maybe even her holy brother, Apollo. Orion made daily sacrifices, at least a quarter of whatever his catch was, and even sang to her-- granted, in a rusty voice. While hunting, he would find himself talking out loud to himself, pretending it was she. Orion held the most respect for Artemis. She was not only in charge of his trade, his profession, but she understood solitude, and the quiet, calm nature of the night, his favorite time to hunt, when there weren't egotistic, arrogant nobles gallivanting around, posturing for the ladies around. Orion couldn't be less like them. He never touched a single hair on a newborn creature, giving them the respect their patron goddess demanded, and never failed to pray to the moon and its gleaming goddess.

But there was one part of Artemis' creed that, hide it as much as he wanted, Orion could never understand. Artemis was one of the three virgin goddesses, along with her half-sister Athena, and aunt, Hestia. But Orion knew, a bit of knowledge so blasphemous, that Artemis simply could not be ugly, it was against the nature of the gods. Even in the lame Hephaestus, there are said to be many traces of his mother's beauty. Sometimes he wished, late at night, when he was tossing and turning, in that half-stage between soberness and sleep, that it had been he, not Actaeon, who had seen Artemis in all her splendor.

Those sacrilegious thoughts were for another time, though. Orion shook his head clear of thought, focusing only on the graceful deer ahead of him. The white deer was racing forward, at absurb speeds, slowly becoming less of a deer to Orion, and more of a white dot on the horizon.

Still, he could not give up. The deer had struck him when he first saw it's strong, sinewy shape. It leapt about so gracefully in front of him, dying to be given to Artemis. The goddess in mind, a new surge of energy rushed through his veins as he hurled himself to the deer, raising his bowing, pulling back the taut string, and-

_Crack._

The deer was dead. But that was not Orion's arrow in its heart. Instead of his simple, dark brown shaft, the arrow shimmered silver, and as the moon's light hit it, it glistened so intensely. Intrigued, Orion glanced up, searching for the owner of the arrow, and saw no one. His brow compressed in confusion, but as he glanced behind himself, there was a flash of blue in the corner of his eye.

Foot on the shoulder of the animal, a woman was tugging out the arrow from the beast's heart. Long, loose curls hung around her head; so dark it was almost impossible to make them out. She was slender, and beautiful. Orion paused. Could that be her arrow? Was she a hunter too? Maybe Atalanta, the fearless female, conqueror of wild boars and men's hearts? But Atalanta was fair, and this damsel certainly was not. And why had she stolen the prey he had been stalking all night?

"Excuse me," Orion said softly. "But, I think this was my deer."

The woman turned around, curls hugging her shoulders, and a bemused face. "Well, I seem to be the one who killed it, so I fear it is now my deer."

Orion's eyes narrowed. This lady probably wouldn't sacrifice the deer to its rightful owner. She would probably skin it and make herself some new boots, or whatever it was that women seemed to want so much nowadays.

"But, I don't particularly seem to have much need of it, so I would be willing to share."

"That seems fair," Orion answered, cautiously, moving to the fallen animal, and sitting at its hind.

"And if you're going to sit, make yourself useful-- build a fire. It's freezing out."

Orion did as told, glancing surreptitiously at the strange maiden, who had taken out a knife in order to skin the prize.

"Wait," he called out, as her knife lowered to the animal's neck. "Aren't you going to sacrifice it?"

The maiden looked up, with a wry smile, as if she would never think of doing such a thing. "Sacrifice it? To whom?"

Orion raised an eyebrow. "Artemis of course."

With a quiet chuckle, she sat back on her heels, staring Orion straight on. "Well. I suppose I wouldn't be averse to that. But you would have to show me. I've never done this before."

Orion gaped at the girl. "Never? And you were able to shoot down the deer like that? How could you gain favor with a god you ignore?"

"I never said I ignored her."

"Then again, I suppose you ignore all the gods, never sacrificing. I can't stand people like that, thinking they are more than worthy of the gods, without working to gain their favor," Orion sighed.

The maiden paused, looking intently at Orion. "You could say I have a _different_ relationship to the gods than most people. But I'd be interested in learning more about what you say."

"Well, there are many creatures in this wood dying to be sacrificed to Artemis," Orion said. "But, first, your--"

"It's Diana," the maiden said quickly.

And they were off.

Exotic flowers, solid gold goblets, elaborately woven linens, detailed platters, and multitude more riches lined the house, as Meliboea trudged down the hall. Her mother's banquet had to be absolutely perfect. Families from all around the country were invited, and they had to be impressed by the riches of the house of Atreus, as these families could provide spouses for her and all thirteen of her siblings. Their family must look as if it were swimming in wealth and luxury. Not only that, but apparently it had to look as if the house had achieved the ability to grow flowers inside, a sort of covered garden. Every available surface was draped carefully with a rich cloth, so costly that it could provide a normal family with food for over a year, and on top of that, a plethora of flowers.

Meliboea sighed. Each time she looked at the flowers, she could not help but think of the waste. The banquet was several weeks away, but the flowers were already out, and replaced every other day. So many flowers were killed already, Meliboea would not be surprised if their lands were barren by the end of the proceedings.

But it was not her job to think such treacherous things toward her mother. Her mother birthed her, took care of her, provided for her, and raised her well, while doing the same for thirteen other children. Her job at this moment was to look innocent and be innocent in some quiet corner of the house, while making sure to not ruin her complexion, because, as every princess should know, appearance is everything in marriage.

That was all her mother could think about. Marriage. Each one of her children must have a spouse, and Niobe's grandchildren before she was forty. And, as Meliboea was told time and time again, no man wants to marry a working lady. Meliboea was never to move tables, or polish silverware, or help in the kitchen. She had to sit and weave, or sit and eat, or sit and pick flowers, but never too much of any of those, and always sit and be quiet. Frankly, Meliboea was tired of sitting, though being quiet had always been second nature. Her mother scolded Meliboea for talking, and when she was very young, Meliboea had convinced herself she could talk to her heart's content when she was married, because all her mother seemed to do was talk. But now, she was quite satisfied with being quiet.

Being innocent, however, irked her. It was impossible for one to be truly innocent, after infanthood. And her mother's ideas of innocence made no sense. Even the perverted liked to weave and pick flowers. And everyone liked to eat. Besides, these activities would more likely bring her some dreadful, dictator of a husband, rather than a caring, sweet one. Take Persephone for example. Her husband fell in love with her when he saw her picking flowers, and he is Hades, lord of the dead. Not exactly the most ideal husband, right?

But, there was nothing to be done about her predicament, so Meliboea was off to find herself a place of innocence, as her mother wanted. Her mother just didn't have to know the place Meliboea was thinking of was outside.

Her mother of all people should understand that with all the maids scurrying to and fro, all about the house, that Meliboea, no matter where she was, would run the risk of being associated as one of them. So, really, it could not be too awful if Meliboea were to sit underneath the shade of a tree, and perhaps rid herself of the bags under her eyes, while making quite sure her hat is tied on, to protect her complexion?

Of course, on a windy day in Greece, hats are not the most appropriate accessories. This was proven as Meliboea steadied herself next to a thick oak, and a rather strong and sudden burst of wind blew her hat right off.

Knowing her mother would never accept her back in the house without the hat, Meliboea dashed after it, hopping up to get it, but it kept slipping out of her reach.

Her predicament might not sound the most calming, maybe rather frustrating instead. But, dashing after her hat, as the sun's warmth permeated through her body, Meliboea felt a sense of wholeness, and did not mind the exercise. The sun had always filled her with joy, and as Apollo and Helios raced through the sky, she could always scrounge up enough happiness for a smile.

Her mother was overbearing; it was true. But with each turning of the sun, Meliboea was closer to her freedom, whatever that may be. Apollo was the god of day, and the god of reason, and music, and the patron of the oracle, the future. A god who was composed of all that was good could not do wrong, or at least, not to her. So, his time, the day, could not be so bad, comparatively.

So, as Meliboea jumped up for her hat, she was not as scared as she should have been when she felt another's hand clenching around the hat, and her.

"Hello," said a lilting voice, and Meliboea saw, in front of her, a lean man, with fair hair, and sky blue eyes.

"Hello," Meliboea said back, perhaps a bit too boldly.

"I believe this hat is yours," said the man.

"Oh, thank you, sir." Meliboea blushed. His hand was warm on her skin, like the heat of the sun.

"You can call me… Phoebus," the man said, a wry smile beginning to play on his lips. His soft, pink, lush lips. His lips that Meliboea should not have been thinking of.

Meliboea glanced over her shoulder at her basket, with only a few, solitary irises in it. "I really should go. It was nice meeting you, Phoebus."

With a smile and a nod, she turned around and left for the mundane tasks of her mother, feeling the heat rushing to her face. She had spoken to men before, plenty of them. She was always set by her mother to flirt with some young noble, and start selling herself for a splendid marriage while young. But those boys had been easy to talk to. They were often younger than she, and usually pimply, or cursed with a nasally voice, or too thick to string a sentence together. And always inbred. Nobles-- with some strange idea of keeping themselves pure, though pure from what, Meliboea was unsure of-- defied the laws of nature, marrying only first cousins, and damning their later descendants to certain insanity.

But she digressed. This _Phoebus_ was like nothing she had seen before. She had seen village boys, but they had always seemed dirty to her. And wandering poets were always in search of food and easy living. Still, Phoebus was like none. His beauty was unparalleled, and he had an ease of talking that made it obvious he was educated, though he was tanned as if he was a laborer. He certainly was his own. If only Meliboea might see him again, though where she might do that, or talk to him without the watch of her mother, was unknown.

"Wait, miss!"

Meliboea stopped in her tracks, a bit startled by the interruption of her thoughts.

It was Phoebus. "Miss"-

"You may call me Meliboea," she said, forgetting all the correct protocol her mother had lectured on and on about endlessly.

"Meliboea, I was wondering if you needed help. See, I… I am the new gardener's assistant here, and I see you seem to be enjoying, and I've seen you picking flowers before, which being in my jurisdiction… I just wanted you to know if you needed any help, if I could."

So he was a laborer. But she knew where to find him now. "I wasn't picking flowers recently—I think we have enough of those currently, which is incredibly fortunate; picking flowers is a rather dull task."

Phoebus smiled. "I am sure nothing involving you could be dull."

Meliboea smiled. He was audacious, for certain, flirting with someone so above him. Of course, not that she minded in the least.

"The question, Phoebus, really seems to be whether you need any help. And if _I_ could be any service to _you_."

Brow narrowing at the proceedings below, Clio reached for her pen.

"Ah… another war? Or maybe this time a famine?" her older sister Calliope teased, running a hand through her hair.

Clio raised an eyebrow. "No. Something more to Thalia's liking. Though, for how long that will last, I don't know. Melpomeme seems to love bringing down Apollo."

Calliope started. "Apollo? What are you"-

"Just look. And I suggest you get ready your pen too, because history is in the making. And not just Apollo's."

"And ever since, I haven't been able to handle scorpions very well," he admitted.

Diana laughed. "Surely scorpions aren't that scary? They're so tiny, you could squash them easily under your shoe."

"I never said I thought they were scary!" Orion protested. "I simply said I couldn't handle them. Besides, I was little at the time."

"And the dark makes everything scary then, huh?"

Orion chuckled. "Speaking of the dark, are you going to camp out with me tonight, or run away for the night, like always?"

Diana blushed. "You know I'm going to say run away."

"It's never too late to break a bad habit."

"Who says this is a bad habit?"

"I do, when I want to spend time with you," Orion said, his tone shifting from his original light and cheery air.

"You were the one who had so much reverence for Artemis, remember?"

"Well, yes, but"—

"So you can't just forget that she was the _virgin _goddess."

"And is that really what you want? You weren't even sacrificing to her a week ago."

Diana looked Orion square in the eyes. "Does that mean that I don't respect her? Remember, it's not always just the most reverent and overt worshippers that the gods listen to."

And she was gone.

Orion sighed. Every day for the past week he had hunted with Diana, and enjoyed her company. She could hit her target from farther away than he ever could, and was never as squeamish as the other girls Orion had known. She was simply like no other girl he had known. She was unique.

But, whereas other girls would have shyly and very willingly succumbed to him days earlier, Diana always kept a firm distance between them, as if she had never known a man in that way before. Now, there was no doubt Orion respected her wishes.

But why was it that the first woman he had wanted in this way was the only one so adamant in that way?

Still there was no one there. For ages Athena had been waiting, and yet there was still no sign of Artemis. From Hephaestus' forge to Hestia's hearth was empty of the young goddess. Unfortunately, the one who Athena had no trouble finding was the one that she disdained seeing almost above all others.

"Athena," the strikingly beautiful lady greeted. "How are things?"

"Aphrodite," came the reply, sounding bitter and dreading. Athena knew the mischief and trouble that only one such as the goddess of love could cause. And wherever Aphrodite came, Ares was known to come following after. "How is… your affair?"

One of the perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. "I take it you mean Ares. He is doing quite fine. Though, lack of warfare has made him rather… upset."

"Well, I am sure that you will find some war for him yet."

"And what are you doing this lovely evening? No man to comfort you? Or to hold you close?"

Athena squared her jaw. "I think you would know the answer to that. And I am looking for Artemis."

"Urgent news for her? I saw her brother not long ago, though I have no clue where she could be. I hope she turns—actually, I think that may be her coming now. I suppose I will have to postpone this conversation for another time. Such a pity."

Athena quite nearly sighed in relief, turning quickly from her momentary companion, and hurrying to the seemingly dazed goddess' side.

Once she had seen to a proper distance between herself and Aphrodite, Athena addressed her half-sister. "There is something I want to speak with you about, Artemis. Unless you would rather I called you Diana?"

Artemis blinked, and the vague expression left her face, trading with one of suspicion. "How did you know?"

Athena sighed. "Nike has been with that hunter almost all week now. All of that victory in hunting, and it shouldn't be a surprise that she became skeptical. She told me, I did a bit of investigating, and the facts were just lying out there, so obvious, for anyone to pick up on."

Artemis steadied her breath, and looked Athena in the eye. "What does it matter to you if I, goddess of the hunt, am spending time hunting with a particularly good hunter?"

"Nothing, except for that he is a male hunter, and you are the virgin goddess."

"Athena, you're supposed to be wise, so why are you making such stereotypes? Not all men are like that."

"Maybe some aren't, but seeing you two together, I doubt that is the truth. I don't trust him, and I don't trust you with him," Athena stated sternly.

"Since when are you my mother?"

"I don't see Leto here, stopping you from some horrendous misjudgments."

"So, you're saying I have to choose between being the virgin goddess and the goddess of the hunt?"

"No, I never said that. You're both, but you have to start acting like the virgin goddess."

"What if I choose not to? I could, you know. Zeus promised me that he would never make me marry. But I never once promised that I would stay a virgin. Never!"

"Artemis, stop," Athena commanded, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Think about what would happen without you. What would happen if young maidens didn't have a patron? If they were forced to turn to Aphrodite, the corrupter of the world?"

"If it's so important, you could be the virgin goddess. It's not as if you've enjoyed the male touch either."

Athena's eyes narrowed. "As if war and wisdom have the same innocence that you have. You could not be replaced. And if you decide to dirty your innocence, I will have to take drastic measures."

Artemis didn't reply. She glared at Athena, and dashed off, back the path they had traveled.

Still, as she hurried off into the distance, down the long, golden corridors, through splendor only the gods could know, she bit her lip. Athena was right. She was the goddess of wisdom, after all. But, why must Artemis always be the one in the wrong? What she wouldn't give to be a mortal. Live once, die once, a mortal's life is simple. Artemis could break her family's expectations once, and live at most only sixty years with their scorn, instead of having them frown down at her for the rest of eternity. Life was more precious as a mortal.

"Artemis."

Artemis nearly fell over at the sudden call to her. Glancing around, she saw nothing surrounding her, but the hushed, nighttime glows of Olympus.

"Over here," the voice said.

Slowly, Artemis approached a nearby column, and peaked around it. There, in all her glory, was Aphrodite.

"What do you want?" Artemis asked, hurriedly, knowing, as Athena complained so many times, that Aphrodite could be up to no good.

Aphrodite sighed a lovely, caressing sound. "I know."

Athena was right. Aphrodite really wasn't the brightest bulb in the box. "About?"

"About you. You and that hunter. Orion, I think his name is?"

Artemis paled. "Yes. He is a considerable hunter."

A light, tingling laugh came from Aphrodite. "Artemis. I am not as stupid as you think. Especially not where love is concerned. Yes, you heard me. Love. I think you forget who I am. The goddess of love. And you are in love."

"Love? I can't be. Remember? I am impervious to you. I am the virgin goddess."

"The virgin goddess with a little virgin crush. I know we've skirted around each other in the past, but you cannot deny my power. I know Athena is disdainful of me, but she will never get over the fact that I am truly the most powerful god of Olympus," Aphrodite grimaced. "Love is universal. Even you can't escape it. You love your brother, and your mother, and family. But this romantic love, you seem to be afraid of."

"I made a vow to be the virgin goddess. Ages ago, Aphrodite."

"Vows are meant to be broken. Besides, not two minutes ago were you arguing that you are not needed as virgin goddess."

"You were listening"—

"Of course I was listening. You two are entirely too loud, yet think no one can hear you. I digress. What I wanted to tell you was that I am on your side."

"You? You can't be!"

"Stop and think for a moment. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Forever ago, wasn't it? When you were not quite a day old, and asked Zeus to never have to marry. It is time that you do what you want. And if you want to be in love, and have experiences that most young women can only dream of, you should have them. Don't hide your love for Orion. Go, and be with him."

"But, the others…"

Aphrodite placed a comforting hand on Artemis' shoulder. "Let me take care of Zeus. You go and live for once."

Artemis gave Aphrodite a small crescent of a smile. "Thank you."

With two days until the feast her mother had been preparing for what seemed to be a lifetime, flowers were high in demand, and so Meliboea was out constantly, picking those flowers.

Not that her mother knew. Even though picking flowers was on her mother's list of innocent activities, picking them while flirting with a tanned gardener's assistant and doing so usually hatless was probably not the same thing in her mother's mind.

But for once, Meliboea didn't care what was passing through her mother's mind. The happiness that came with the time she spent with Phoebus was priceless, and who cared what her mother would say, or more likely scream if she knew what Meliboea was doing? Right now wasn't the time to think about consequences.

Instead, it was the dark, the dark right before Dawn stretched across the sky, the time when Phoebus started his shift, and Meliboea could easily sneak out without one of her many siblings catching her.

Meliboea hoped he would arrive soon, as the hours stretched endlessly ahead, and the flowers as mindless as they were innocent. Phoebus had this way of speaking, of smiling, of _being_ really, that brought light to her days. For the past week or so she had known him, he was the steady force in her thoughts, like the sun. Rising every morning, he was the first thought in her mind, and the last as she fell asleep each night.

It was cruel, this trick that Aphrodite was playing on her. Of course she would fall for the man that she could never be allowed to love. If her mother knew… well, if her mother knew, Meliboea didn't know what would happen, but she was certain there would be blood. There is no country for traitors, as her mother often said. And even less for traitors to the family.

Not that there would ever be anything for her mother to discover. Meliboea had decided early on to stay out of danger's way, and keep herself from any romance. Phoebus could still be her friend, and a good friend at that. Besides, she wouldn't know him for long. She would soon be sold off as a bride to whichever suitor was the richest, and Phoebus would leave her life as quickly as he entered it.

So, as she watched Phoebus approach her that morning, she couldn't help but feel sorrow.

"Hello," Phoebus breathed warmly when he got to her.

"Good morning," Meliboea said, offering him the basket of flowers she had already collected. "I thought it might lighten your work load."

Phoebus looked at her, his eyes alight with something, something Meliboea didn't quite recognize. "Thank you so much. Though, I had been hoping to pick them with you," he added, coming considerably closer.

"No one said we couldn't pick more." She licked her lips.

"I think I would like that." Phoebus took her hand, his fingers closing around hers.

Meliboea nodded, closing her eyes. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, and her own breath caught in her throat.

But the heat was gone suddenly, and her breath came back, with a tinge of disappointment as Phoebus leaned back from the anticipated embrace.

After blinking briefly, Meliboea opened her eyes to see the soft, pastel colors of the daybreak much sharper, and clearer, as if each beam of light has been outlined perfectly. And in the center of this multitude of pigments, was a golden chariot, big and bright, racing through the sky, something no mortal was supposed to see.

Eyes wide, Meliboea turned to Phoebus. "Was… Was that Helios? The sun?"

Phoebus looked to her, brow creased. "What?" he asked, urgently, worry laced heavily in his voice.

His eyes searched her face, for some sort of explanation; though how one could explain what she had just seen Meliboea would never know. But then, his eyes landed on their hands together, and in horror his recoiled.

"Phoebus," Meliboea asked nervously, "What's going on?" searching his eyes for something, anything.

And then it hit her.

His eyes.

His bright blue eyes, which were the exact color of the sky.

Meliboea cursed her stupidity. How did she not see it? The almost glow he seemed to gain as the sun soared overhead, and how he seemed like the sun to her… And she had fallen in love with a god of Olympus. All this time, she had thought she was too high above Phoebus for them to be together, and now it was evident that she was nothing compared to him. She wasn't even worthy to kiss his feet.

So, she did the only thing she could think of-- run.

And so, leaving behind an overflowing basket of flowers, she ran through the hills of her parents' estate, hoping to do the impossible; out run her embarrassment, and the ever-infamous lover Apollo.

"Wake-up, Orion," repeated the gentle voice, rousing him from his slumber.

And there, for the first time, Diana was next to him in the morning.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, covering a yawn.

"I must confide in you the truth," she said, earnestly.

"What truth?" Orion asked, perplexed.

"A friend and I were discussing some things, and she told me to be honest. So, I decided I would be honest. With you."

Orion was still perplexed. "About what?"

"Orion, you see, I heard of your devotion to Artemis, and it was so intriguing, I came to find you, to learn of you. You are a fantastic hunter, you know that, right?"

"Well, you are good too, Diana," Orion reciprocated, unsure of where this was leading. Was she saying goodbye? She couldn't be. He had just met her. There was so much he wanted her to learn, and that he wanted to learn from her, and he just wanted to be around her.

"Well, that would be the problem. My name is not Diana. It never was."

"Then, what is it?"

"Artemis," Diana, or rather, Artemis, said, staring intently at Orion.

"Artemis? Your parents named you after the goddess of the hunt? What foresight they had--"

Artemis raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, wait. You really are Artemis? The goddess of the hunt?"

Artemis nodded.

"That would make sense, wouldn't it? It definitely explains a lot. You really were too good. And that was why you always went off for the night, because you're the virgin goddess…" Orion trailed off. If she was the virgin goddess, there was no way she was going to be anywhere near him in the morning hours again. And most definitely not the nighttime hours. That was just his luck. His first love leaves him before they were married, and his second is the virgin goddess.

Artemis sighed. "And that was the second point I wanted to talk about. This whole 'love' bit."

"Smooth," Erato snorted.

"What?" Terpsichore asked, standing on her tip-toes in order to get a glimpse over her older sister's shoulder.

"Apollo finally finds a girl with whom he isn't rushing right into a hot and heavy romance"—

"How disappointing, weren't those your favorite?" Clio smirked.

"Shut up. Anyway, once he tells her he's a god, she runs away. And I had hoped that he would finally find someone who would love him back."

"But Clytie loved him back," Thalia pointed out. "I remember Melpomene getting so excited over that. Something about her sitting there and watching the sun rise and fall each day, until she became a sunflower."

"Well, she ran away this time," Calliope sighed. "Why does Apollo always go for the dramatic ones? I am sick of telling tales of all the girls running away from him. This one better not turn into a tree like Daphne."

"The stars are set in steady, never-changing constellations," Urania stated, point-blank. "Mayhap the sun is firmly set in a similar way?"

"We should hope then that she loves him back this time," Melpomene replied darkly. "I fear I am the only one who feels in need of a tragedy."

"But did you hear her songs?" Euterpe asked, looking up from her lyre. "They were beautiful."

Polyhymnia nodded. "She has to love him back. At least a bit. Her songs for him were sincere. And true devotion cannot possibly be faked."

The fire burned and crackled, and Hestia could feel the pure heat burning her face, but she did not turn away. The fire was comforting to her. The hearth was the center to any home, to any town, and it was her place. Without her, the world would slowly dwindle and separate. But, she hastened to acknowledge, that was the same case for the rest of the gods. Except, maybe Ares.

The hearth at Olympus was especially strong. This hearth was the hearth from which Prometheus stole fire, to bring to the humans. It was the original, the true fire, and more powerful than any other. Hestia, from this hearth, could see the hearths of all homes, and towns, and cities. Among these images she could see were the images from travelers' fires, and one traveler in particular. A young hunter, named Orion.

It was to see Orion that several other goddesses had gathered around the hearth for. Orion, a man with beauty and strength, and whom the gods had blessed, was of utmost interest at this precise point in time, which was why Hestia had called over her fellow immortals.

Aphrodite could not have been more excited. In a way, it was selfish; love had won over prudence, and the patron goddess of maidenhood was loosing her innocence in the realm of men, in Aphrodite's realm. That feeling of achievement was evidently strong, as it would be in anyone in her shoes, but it was more than that. Love had conquered through the ages, and was present in most any situation, but the number of times love was unrequited, or broken, or any occurrence similar was too high too count, outnumbering true love more than thrice over. Artemis and Orion were together, though not quite yet in the intimate sense, but even without the consummation of a bond, Aphrodite could not help but glow at the presence of true feelings and care. It could never get old for her.

Athena, on the other hand, was eyeing the gorgeous goddess carefully. Artemis was a respectable goddess, who was rarely as imperceptive as many other gods she could think of, and insensitive in all the right places, and not too many others. Seeing the wits of such a reputable and admirable goddess dumb and wither away to leave a foolish, careless girl was not, and never would be on Athena's agenda. So as Aphrodite gleamingly giggled at the site of such degradation as was occurring presently, Athena watched her, suspicion never leaving her famously impartial mind.

"Wait!" Apollo called after Meliboea as she dashed off. Why did they always dash off? He was a god, and yet no maiden had respect for him. The Fates most definitely had a sense of humor, and a very cruel one at that.

But now wasn't the time to curse the Fates. Apollo had yet another girl to chase after. Although calling her simply another girl didn't do her justice. She was smart and caring and passionate, and yes, very pretty. And, unlike all of the other girls, he could talk to her. Daphne, even before she became the beautiful laurel tree, was about as responsive to his conversations as wood.

The other girls were usually servants of Artemis, who refused the company of men. Needless to say, his sister was never too pleased when her followers kept turning into trees or ponds or whatnot. Maybe Apollo was a bad brother, but he couldn't wish for a better sister. She wasn't the type of idiot who would eagerly follow some random man. In fact, her stubbornness in spurning all men, though sometimes a bit too strong, took a lot of weight off Apollo's shoulder. He had no clue what he would have done, had Artemis fallen in love. Anyway, Meliboea was not one of his sister's disciples, so it wasn't as if she was adverse to men. So, the question was, why did she run away?

And while he was asking questions, why didn't he kiss her? He was going to be the gentleman this time, and not kiss her or anything—his sister would have been proud. And it wasn't as if refusing himself the kiss was necessarily easy or anything. And what does he get for the effort? The girl runs away. Why didn't women come with user-friendly manuals?

But there was no time to answer his questions on life. Meliboea hadn't been trained like her brothers, and Apollo had gained much practice over the ages in running, so it was inevitable that he would catch up.

"Meliboea, stop. Just listen to me," he said, looking earnestly into her eyes.

She, however, would not raise her gaze above the grass near his feet. "I can't… I…"

"You what? Love another man? If it's that, I understand," Apollo lied as best he could.

"No!" She looked up. "You're Phoebus Apollo. You're one of the twelve Olympians. Where does love enter into this? I am a simple mortal. I should not even be looking at you."

Apollo's brow creased. "A good question. How could you ever be worthy of me?"

Meliboea nodded, though she winced internally at how harsh it sounded when he said it.

"I suppose you could be worthy of me because you have prayed and sacrificed to me almost always, and you praise me through wonderful song. You have one of the most reticent, yet wonderful personalities I have seen in human kind. You are humble, and are willing to work, even though you are a princess in one of Greece's most powerful cities. You have passed the ultimate test of character. How long has Phoebus been coming to talk with you, and help you? If you were not worthy, he would have stopped long ago.

"I, however, am maybe not the most worthy of gods. I steal my sister's huntresses, and chase women in a way that is only second to my father, Zeus. I hunt, and kill with arrows much more painful that Artemis'. I have killed. I have hurt people. Icarus flew too close to my sun, and died. But that is only one example. You should have seen me when Hermes stole my cows. To some I may seem noble and refined, and one of the very artistic gods, but few can see that I, like all the other gods, still have traces of raw, harsh power, straight from the Titans. You think yourself unworthy of me, but I know that I am the one who is truly unworthy of you, below you, just as Phoebus was."

Meliboea smiled. "Then I suppose I won't run away again."

"As you know, I am not only the goddess of the hunt, and the night, but of maidenhood," Artemis sighed, readying herself for the confession that was to come. "I swore off men only a few years after my birth."

Orion nodded gravely.

"I have lived a life almost in fear of men. Men seemed callous and cruel, though, when one crossed me, I could be more so. I blessed the good hunters, and I kept a close eye on them, but I never approached them, not wanting my image of them to turn ugly.

"But, as I received so many sacrifices from you, my curiosity overtook me, and I came to visit you. It was amazing, hunting with you. And as I stayed with you, and we talked more and more, I came to like and respect you so much. I looked forward to hunting with you, and I doubt I will ever forget the experience."

"So, how does this relate to the 'love' bit?" Orion asked hesitantly.

"Aphrodite cornered me, and I realized, I am falling in love with you, whether I am the virgin goddess or not," Artemis stated, a blush creeping up her neck.

Orion gaped at her. "But, you can't… You couldn't be with me. You're the"—

Artemis put an arm on his shoulder, steadying him. "I don't have to be, if I don't want to. Athena can be the virgin goddess— she does a good job of it. Maybe even a better one, now."

And she kissed him.

"He finally caught the girl!" Thalia squealed, bouncing on her heels. "So much for your next tragedy, Melpomene!"

Melpomene glanced dryly at her sister. "There are still loads more tragedies than comedies."

Thalia gave her sister a sickly sweet smile, and stomped on her foot.

Erato just beamed. "Finally. Finally! I thought this day would never come. This calls for celebration!"

"Well, it's a day for the history books," Clio agreed, her eyebrows raised at her sister's antics.

"I'm just happy for Apollo," Polyhymnia said. "I think he truly deserves"—

But Polyhymnia was cut off, as the door banged open, to reveal a perturbed Athena.

"Yes?" Calliope asked.

"Where is Apollo?" she asked quickly, looking around at all nine of the muses.

Thalia's eyes widened, and she looked pleadingly at Calliope, who responded, "Er… we aren't quite sure at the moment."

Athena's gaze darkened. "Don't be afraid to tell me. I am the goddess of wisdom, after all."

"Why do you want to know?" Erato asked, her stare equaling the goddess'.

"It is important. There is some—"

"He is in Thebes. With a daughter of the house of Atreus."

The muses all turned in horror to the traitor in their midst, anger spreading quickly through some of their expressions.

"Thank you, Melpomene," was all Athena said, before she vanished into thin air.

Thalia turned on her sister. "What did you do that for? You probably just ruined everything we've been waiting so long for."

Melpomene sighed. "Just like your comedies all have a denouement, that happy ending, my tragedies all have a catastrophe. And like it or not, Thalia, this is most definitely a tragedy."

"I am sorry, for running away. I guess I don't exactly meet with the gods every day."

Apollo fastened his fingers with hers. "At least you were the one who stopped, and listened to me," he whispered to her, his breath tickling her cheek.

She turned her head, and her arm reached up, and around his neck, as his face drew down, closer to hers.

Barely had his lips grazed hers, when something pushed at Apollo's arm, shoving it into her. He looked up, to see what had disturbed them, and finding a grey owl sitting on a branch of a nearby tree, its eyes looking straight into his, he cursed.

"I will be right back," he promised her, dashing over to the bird.

Meliboea knew nothing of what was happening, but it was not her right to know. So, she sat, and waited for Apollo to return.

He looked as if he was _listening_ to the bird, but as he was a god, it might not have been just any bird. But as he continued listening, his eyes narrowed, and he bit his thumb, in some intense anxiety. The owl soon flew away though, and Apollo was almost immediately at her side.

"I have to go," he said darkly. "Some urgent matters await me. But I will keep an eye on the banquet, and make sure nothing happens to you."

Meliboea nodded, and watched as his form shimmered away, fading into the wind's gentle breeze.

Neleus sat at the table, looking around, amazed at the splendor of the palace, surrounded by many other guests, and a loud, constant sound of speaking voices. In particular, there was one thing more astounding than the rest combined. Further down the table sat a lovely creature, picking daintily at her food, and not taking her eyes off her plate. There was something more human about her than the near perfection of the girls surrounding her, and to Neleus, it made her so much more otherworldly, his eyes not able to tear off her.

The man next to him nudged him, breaking him out of his reverie, and asked, "So, which daughter are you here for?"

Startled, Neleus looked up. "Excuse me?"

"I said, which daughter are you here in hopes of?"

"I'm not sure. I just got an invite, so I came. What about you?"

The man chuckled. "I am too old for those lovely princesses. I own much land in the area, and so an invitation was expected. The queen likes to surround herself with possibility, though, doesn't she?"

"I don't think I understand, sir."

"The queen didn't exactly have a happy childhood. Her father, Tantalus sacrificed her brother Pelops to the gods."

"Really?" Neleus asked, intrigued.

"Quite certainly. The gods were displeased, though, and sent Tantalus to Tartarus, to stand in the water, under a grape vine, but whenever he reaches for either, they are just out of his grasp."

"What happened to Pelops?"

"Oh, the gods put him back together, though they had to give him an ivory shoulder. With her distress over losing Persephone, Demeter had absent-mindedly eaten his shoulder. But they gave him a wonderful chariot with the fastest horses you have ever seen, and in that way, he won himself a wonderful bride."

Neleus nodded, and glanced back at the beautiful girl. She was sitting near the queen. She couldn't be one of the princesses, could she?

"So, does Queen Niobe take after her brother, or her father?"

"Well, we'll have to see, won't we?" the man replied, winking at Neleus.

Branches and vines slapped his arms as he raced ahead of the monster. It could not be killed, no matter what he did. And that left his final option—to run.

The scorpion followed, it's massive proportions easily clearing aside the bushes and shrubs that had caused him to stumble before, it's stinger snapping back and forth, quickly as a dart. All had missed so far, and would miss, as long as he kept running.

It was dark, and in the forest not all worked perfectly. A small root from a nearby tree stuck up at an odd angle, and he stumbled. He felt a quick prick in his lower leg, and so he leapt up, adrenaline racing through him.

His leg was on fire, he knew the scorpion had got him, but he could not stop running. He couldn't give up hope. He had to see her again. But the fire permeated through his entire right leg, and as it numbed, he could not move it, and began to trip and stumble all the more, though he still kept getting up, and running, trying desperately to make it to the village on the other side of the woods.

Finally, he could not get up. He could hear the patter of the scorpion slowly approaching. His vision began to fade, and turn black on the edges, and his heart slowed. So this was what it was like to die. With one concluding push, he willed himself onto his back, and as his eyes closed for the final time, the last thing he saw was the moon, full and pale, in all its glory.

Aromas of beef, pork, and all sorts of vegetables and soups wafted down the hallway, slowly peeking into the grand dining hall, and to the end of the table, where a certain princess was sitting, her place set haphazardly, as if she was only an afterthought, even in her own home--which considering her mother, was not the most potent surprise. The smell surrounded and filled her nose, and she could not help but sigh in content. She would choose cooking over picking flowers any day.

The ecstatic joy of eating, however, was quickly replaced with a gnawing sort of anxiety. It wasn't something Meliboea could really explain. Somehow, as she turned her gaze up the lengthy table to her mother, she couldn't help but feel some sense of foreboding.

Niobe was a great orator; that could not be doubted. Still, her mother's ever strengthening vanity could not possibly end well, could it? The stories all tell of gods punishing the conceited, rewarding the humble, and never, ever forgiving. And, combined with this grand feast, what else could the result be?

Of course, her mother would insist that the celebration was to find perspective suitors for her children, seeing as she did have fourteen, as she was so fond of repeating. Evidence of that could not be missed. Nearly half of the guests were young men, who, when it came to marriage, were nearly ripe for the plucking. One suitor in particular was seated quite close to her mother, and, though it may have just been her, seemed to be eyeing her. Surely this was the Prince Neleus whom her mother had seemed so excited to discuss whenever she was around?

Meliboea sighed. What would Apollo think? That she was so assuredly going to be married off to a mortal? It was not as if he could stop it from happening. Her mother could never permit it, unless he was going to marry her, and what were the chances of that happening? Dionysus was the only god to marry a mortal, and she could not see the mighty Apollo doing the same. It was then that Meliboea vowed to never speak of what occurred between Apollo and herself. Her future husband would never understand that she was flawed, so to speak, because of Apollo. How many times has a woman told her husband that on the night of their marriage? And how many times was it untrue? Too many to count.

Apollo was wonderful, he really was. But Meliboea knew that she could never truly be with him. So, looking down at her plate, she resolved to cut this affair, or whatever it was, off immediately, as hard as she knew it would be. Now, she would just wait, and hope that her inexplicable dread was incorrect.

"Artemis!" Aphrodite exclaimed, shocked. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Orion?"

The young goddess blushed. "Oh, I excused myself from his side for a bit. I wanted to ask you something."

"Go right ahead. I want nothing more than to help. I truly do realize how hard this must be on you," Aphrodite said earnestly.

"I… I know this is going to sound strange, but I wanted to borrow your girdle. The one that Hephaestus made you?"

Aphrodite looked, speechlessly, at the girl. "Well, I'm not sure. That girdle is incredibly powerful. It's never left my side. You know that it—"

"That it can make the wearer look infinitely more beautiful? I know. That was sort of the point."

Aphrodite bit her lip. "It really has never left my person, Artemis."

Artemis looked sadly into her eyes. "But, I'm sure you are still more beautiful than any other person, mortal or immortal, to ever exist. I, on the other hand—"

"Don't say that. Do not say you aren't beautiful. Yes, I realize I am incredibly lovely, as so many people have told me, or not told me, as so often is the case. But that in no way makes you ugly. Some think I am shallow and some sort of one-sided beast, who only looks for perfection in a human. Well, that isn't true. I, more than anyone else, know there is no such thing as true beauty. There are so many different sides to beauty. The world doesn't have, didn't have, and never will have a single most beautiful woman.

"I can think of so many women with admirable faces, but whose bodies are much too skinny, or too plump. Or women with perfect bodies, but maybe too much acne, or a drooping nose. And I have seen too many women who are perfectly gorgeous, but whose insides are so rotten and vile that not even Hades could bear to see them. And women who are the nicest you will ever meet, but did not receive beauty from their parents.

"Furthermore, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One might think that skinny women are beautiful, and another may like big women. Some like big noses, and others like small feet. There is a reason that we come in different shapes and sizes. If beauty was as specific as you think, then we'd all marry people who look like that, and have children who look like that, and eventually all humans would look like that.

"So, Artemis, I really cannot give you the girdle. You are beautiful, despite what you may think, and you're beautiful on the inside too. And as the goddess of love, let me tell you a secret. If he doesn't appreciate what you look like, and who you are, then he doesn't deserve you."

Artemis, by the end of Aphrodite's lecture, was quite pink. "Never mind. I suppose I don't want the girdle."

Aphrodite smiled. "Thank you, for listening. And, what are you still doing here? You have a gorgeous young man—inside and out—waiting for you."

With a blush, Artemis waved at Aphrodite, and turned to leave, and would have left, had she not been detained by a plump and jolly looking woman.

"Artemis!" Demeter greeted cheerily. "Leaving so soon? Before you do, I've heard some interesting news from Persephone."

"Persephone? What news could she have for me?"

"Oh, apparently there is some new, handsome youth trying to sacrifice to you from Elysium! How adorable, really."

Artemis paled. Someone sacrificing? To her? It couldn't be…

"Did she tell you his name?"

"She said something about his name. I can't recall. Something like Oxyntes, or Oeneus. It started with an "O", I think. Orpheus? No… that was Calliope's son. Maybe Orestes… Oh, that's it! _Orion_."

Of course, Meliboea couldn't just forget Apollo. She had to at least ask for a sign, from Aphrodite, or Athena, or quite frankly any of the gods at this point. But none came.

Until she felt a tug on her elbow, and she suddenly found herself inside of a nearby closet.

"Who are you?" she asked the smaller girl, who was pressed up next to her in the small confines of the closet.

"Terpsichore. You know, the muse?"

Meliboea thanked the heavens. It was her sign. The muses were close with Apollo, so evidently, staying with Apollo was the right choice. Right?

"Why are you here, exactly? With me? And why in a incredibly tiny closet?"

"Something is about to happen. What precisely I cannot, and should not, say."

"How does this involve me, then?"

"I, well, I shouldn't have done this, but I really want you to be safe."

Clearly the muse saw Meliboea's confusion, since she continued.

"I know I'm the youngest muse, and only a dancer at that, but that doesn't mean I'm not perceptive. I think it's pretty obvious that all the muses want you alive.

"Polyhymnia loved your music. She really did. The devotion and your voice all combined together made her so happy. And she's always such a shy person. It was so nice seeing her sort of break out of her shell with your hymns around. Then, you and Apollo have your little 'thing' now, whatever it is. Erato has been waiting so long to be able to write lyrics of Apollo. Do you know how excited you made her?

"Thalia was just happy that you guys have a happy ending, and that so far no one's died. Comedy is never really popular in the usual stories. They normally end up in death. Lots and lots of death. She would be devastated were it to end up a tragedy. And Calliope, well… this is sort of a distraction from her grief in losing her son, Orpheus. You've heard of him, right?"

Meliboea nodded.

"Really, you are beneficial to all of us. Apollo has been so much more enthusiastic and light-hearted and gay since he met you. Seeing you die, or leave, and what happens to Apollo afterwards, it's not something any of us plans on doing, not even Melpomeme. None of us want to see him crushed."

Meliboea just nodded again. It was her sign, but it brought a fair amount of pressure on her.

"How dare you!"

Apollo looked up, to the sight of his sister, absolutely livid, marching angrily toward him.

"Don't you back away from me, Apollo! We need to talk."

"About what?" Apollo said, trying to keep his calm, though failing quite miserably. His sister was best at making one nervous; especially when she was fingering her bow as she was now.

"You killed him. How could you—"

"Him? Which him is this? I've killed lots of people," Apollo said quickly, in what he knew was a pathetic attempt to buy himself more time.

"Orion! Who else would I be talking about? What other friend of mine has recently dropped dead? What else could you have done to make my existence more miserable?"

"Orion? Oh, you mean the guy you never told me about? That guy? I can't know not to kill him if you don't tell me you don't want him killed."

"So you did kill him. And if you so clearly don't know him, then why is he dead at your hands?"

"Because he was trying to pervert my sister! A goddess, one of the twelve Olympians, no less!"

Artemis stared at Apollo, glaring straight into his eyes. "Who told you about him?"

"Let's just say a little bird told me."

Artemis paused. "Athena? Her owl? No. I thought… She was my friend!"

"Apparently she's my friend, because she actually told me what was going on."

"You wouldn't understand!"

"Yes, I wouldn't understand, would I? That my sister was going to give herself up. Athena's a better friend than you think, protecting you from yourself, and Aphrodite."

"Are you saying Aphrodite is the bad guy? Since when have you disliked her? You seem to keep constant company with her."

"That's different. I am a man. I face no shame from loving. You, however, as a girl, and more importantly a virgin, the patron goddess of virginity even, stand to lose everything because of her. And, I, as your brother, need to protect your dignity."

"That is so hypocritical! I have close relations with a man, although not even that close, as nothing more than a brush of the lips has occurred between us—"

"You kissed him?" Apollo snarled.

"Yes. Yes, I did. And I rather enjoyed it."

"I —"

"Can't do anything; you already killed him. So, compare that small, singular kiss, not even a full-fledged embrace, to you. You are the one who parades around, chasing after girls, kissing them, doing so much more to them, and doing it so frequently. How is it I who must bear the shame? You wrong me!"

"It's different," Apollo protested. "Orion has been engaged before, and conducted himself in some of those activities. He is no virgin. However, the girls I was chasing were all—"

"Virgins," Artemis said darkly, Apollo buckling under her intense watch. "My followers live under constant fear that some man like you, or who actually is you, will terrorize them, and cause them to compromise their morals, unwillingly. You not only wrong me as your sister, but you wrong all my followers, disrespecting them as so many men do!"

"Ah, you still call them your followers! How funny! Are you to lead them into the path of sin and shame? You call yourself the patron of virgins, yet you yourself have no intent of being a virgin. Doesn't that make you hypocritical too?"

"I may have chosen to give up my virginity—though I find it pointless now, as you have destroyed my want to do that by killing Orion—but that in no way means that I cannot understand and support these maidens. I have spent ages upon ages as a pure maiden, never touched by man, I would think I would know virgins better than anyone. I know that most likely they will grow out of it, as the right man comes, and they are wed, just as I was wont to do. I know that they are some of the most precious people on earth, as they have clear values and morals, and respect themselves and their bodies. I know that they live in fear of men, and being ravaged. I know that you—though you are my brother, and, at least you used to be, the closest person to me—you are the ultimate villain when it comes to these girls."

"And that is why you won't let me protect you from being ravaged by that hunter?"

Artemis' face, which had softened, suddenly hardened, and she turned a cold gaze onto her brother. "It is my right to choose what I do, or don't do, with my body. All maidens have that right. That is what makes them special, and so prized. And I will fight for that right until it is our time to leave this world."

Niobe gazed down at her guests from her position at the head of the table, next to Amphion, her husband. She was, of course, throwing the banquet to honor her husband. It was the anniversary of his founding Thebes, with his brother, Zethus. Back then, the inhabitants had been so worthy, and almost worshipped Amphion. They knew how to be respectful then.

Now, everyone seemed to be more sure of themselves, praying to the gods, but not so much the kings and queens of the world. They all liked Amphion, and he seemed not to mind their growing independence. But Niobe found herself being constantly pushed to the side, and ignored, while the people were praying to the gods, and even such minor ones that Niobe had to be more important than, like Mania, Hygieia, or Leto.

Leto. How she irked Niobe. All Leto did was give birth to twins, and somehow that makes her so spectacular. Niobe had given birth to fourteen children, a feat she dared Leto to take on. Oh, yes, Leto's children were the twin gods, Apollo and Artemis. But Niobe had wonderful children. They were beautiful and talented, like Meliboea who was so good at picking and arranging flowers, and smarter than any other woman Niobe knew. Though, there were probably thousands more things that Meliboea could excel at, if she were to get the education of her brothers. And Meliboea's brothers were the land's best swordsmen and wrestlers and discus throwers, and so on. Niobe lived for her children, and she could never bear to see them thought of as inferior to some pair of twins who could only claim to be gods of the day and night, even though there already existed Helios and Selene, to be gods of the sun and moon!

It was not the wisest option, but Niobe was a daughter of the house of Atreus. She was born cursed, and forever would be. Deep down, she knew the true reason she had planned to host the grand feast. So, accepting her fate, Niobe stood up, facing her subjects, and proclaimed those inflaming and infamous words:

"You burn incense to Leto, and what is she as compared with me? She has but two children, Apollo and Artemis. I have seven times as many. I am queen. She was a homeless wanderer until tiny Delos alone of all places on earth consented to receive her. I am happy, strong, great—too great for any, men or gods, to do me harm. Make you sacrifices to me in Leto's temple, mine now, not hers!"

Suddenly, not much longer after Meliboea paled, in the closet, listening to her own mother say something so blasphemous, there was a unanimous gasp among the guests out in the great hall, and light was flooding through the cracks in the door. Some of the light was bright and overpowering, the kind of the sun, where one blinks and turns away, not able to look directly at it, whereas the rest was soft and comforting, something that one may forget is there, though it provides a constant, steady light.

And the smells were amazing. Meliboea could pick out the scent of flowers, and people, and everything that grows steadily and lives in the sun, warm and rich, alongside that cool and crisp air that greets one's nose in the evening.

The muse, however, next to her, seemed nervous, fiddling with her skirt, and looking consistently away from the door. "I should go."

"Why? The light? What is that?"

Terpsichore bit her lip. "Can't you tell? Well, I really have to go, my sisters don't know or anything and—Just promise me that you'll stay right here. Don't go anywhere, alright?"

"Something important is happening, isn't it? Why am I in danger?"

"If you don't stay in here…." Terpsichore sighed. "Your mother makes absolutely dreadful decisions…It's Artemis and Apollo."

Artemis looked at the child before her. It was a shame; the girl was not even a decade old and could yet be a wondrous hunter, one of Artemis' virgin disciples. She stood there stoically, ready to accept the pain already brought upon her brothers and sisters, while her mother cowered, whimpering in the corner. But, the house of Atreus was cursed, and it was unlikely the girl would escape the curse if she lived.

With a glance from her brother—pointedly ignored—Artemis reached for one of her famous silver arrows, and readied it in her bow, aiming for the girl's heart.

The queen cried out in pain, but Artemis could feel no empathy for the vain Niobe. One could not possibly dream of thinking oneself above the gods and escape unscathed. No one likes the ungrateful. Which left Niobe by herself, after the guests had all scampered out, like deer catching sight of a lion.

Her fingers let go of the taut string, and the silver arrow flew through the air, reaching the brave girl, and killing her, smooth, quick, and painless, as Apollo's golden arrow pierced and burned, giving the last son a more prolonged death.

The children of Niobe all lay dead, in the neat and perfect rows that the gods had killed them in. Niobe had her downfall, and the great twins had protected their mother's honor. All was finished. Or so the muses say.

"Where is the seventh daughter?" Artemis asked abruptly, breaking the silence they had punished in, knowing there was nothing they could say to such a sinner.

"The seventh daughter?" Apollo asked.

"The vain queen said she was better because she had seven sons and seven daughters. At your feet lay the seven sons, but only six daughters lay at mine. Where is the seventh daughter?"

"Are you sure you haven't killed her? Or maybe she ran off with the guests? Maybe there never was a seventh daughter? Niobe could have exaggerated the number to make it seem more godly and even," Apollo said, a bit too fast. Artemis gave him an intent stare.

"She definitely had a seventh daughter. Now"-

A creaking door behind Artemis caused her to spin around. There, creeping out of a small closet was one of those muses Apollo always seemed to have in his company.

"_Terpsichore!_" Apollo hissed.

Artemis, after a suspicious glance towards her brother, stalked towards the closet, wrenching the door open.

"Ah, we seem to have found her," Artemis said, her gaze roving over the pale and pathetic looking hunch in the closet, whose wide eyes stared directly at Apollo.

"He can't save you, girl," Artemis said, noting the girl's eyes. "Your mother insulted him too. Hiding was not going to help you, as you can see."

Artemis raised her bow, the tip of the arrow aimed straight at the girl, and she readied herself to let go of the string, and kill the prey. The string began to slip from her fingers, and—

"NO!" Apollo cried, jumping in front of the girl. " No! Artemis, you can't! You can't kill her!"

"And why not?"

"I love her! Meliboea… I've never met any one like her, you just can't kill her!"

"Her mother—"

"I know what her mother did! And I realize now that killing the child for the parent's fault is wrong. We aren't blamed for Father Zeus' trysts, are we?"

"We aren't, but you come close to having the same number of trysts," Artemis said darkly. "How can you even say you're in love?"

"I know I'm in love. I don't want to be with anyone else, even with my past. I enjoy nothing more than her company. It's what you felt with Orion. I know now that I was stupid and thoughtless in sending out the scorpion. I suppose this is what you felt, when Orion died. Look, I am sorry, and I apologize for what I did. I will make sure it never happens again."

Artemis sighed, and put down her bow, eliciting a huge smile from her brother. "I won't kill her. That would be heartless, to make you go through the pain I went through. But, be warned, what I did was a slip. I am the virgin goddess. I need to be there for the maidens of the world, and I can't risk making a mistake like I did. It won't happen again."

"Artemis, I—"

"And, as for your mortal, I do have some conditions. I will never be able to speak to Orion, that mighty hunter, again. And neither will you. She will go on living a normal life, and you may never come to her again. She will start a new life, marry, and have children, the life any mortal woman wants, and it will be without you."

Artemis pulled the girl out of the closet, eyes roving the girl's whitened complexion.

"Go, there is a boy down the hall, who, I fear, has been waiting this whole time for you. Neleus, I think his name is. Go, live a happy life with him. Disassociate yourself from your mother."

Meliboea nodded, and scurried off, to find the aforementioned prince.

Artemis turned to her brother. "Be quiet, for once. You killed the one man I have ever truly cared for. You killed my respect for the one immortal with whom I thought I was friends. You killed my love as a sister for you. But I am willing—not to forget, never to forget—but to forgive. We have carried the same pain from birth, and are yet again faced with the same pain, of losing whom we love. I have lost my trust of you, but I can't imagine not bearing this pain with you."

And saying this, Artemis reached to her brother, with open arms, for the embrace of a sibling.

In apologizing to his twin, Apollo helped her raise Orion to the sky, where he joined the many people and animals spinning around the earth, and dipping into the ocean. The scorpion, albeit against Artemis' wishes, adorns the sky too, forever on Orion's tail as he dips again into the water.

Meliboea married Neleus, son of Poseidon, king of Pylos. He showered her in gifts, praising her being night and day. To him she bore four children, including the magnificent Nestor and the beautiful Pero. But, the shock of her siblings' deaths paled her permanently, and she changed her name to Chloris, to fit her new self.

Niobe took the deaths even worse, crying constantly, a surprise for many, considering her stone heart. Never moving from her spot, she slowly became a stone, eternally damp from the tears she shed.

Apollo had many succeeding lovers, though none as close to him as Meliboea, while Artemis never loved again, pushing away all men apart from her twin, and punishing offenders more cruelly. They remained as close as any twins, but mistrust still tinged their relationship, and kept them from being close as before.

The muses, they live on, arguing and laughing as they are prone to do. Stories and epics flow from them, as they inspire mortals, singing in their ear as they tell and write stories and sing out those stories to the world.

Still, though, they taint the truth, biased to the gods' favor. And I, roaming the earth, keeping all from perfection, am left to tell them. The story is done and over, and there is no way to make it prettier for you. If you want pretty, go call on the muse, to sing to you the story of a man, a man of perfect qualities.

No one has achieved perfection, not you nor I. Even Athena betrayed her friend; even Artemis was nearly a woman; even Apollo carelessly killed with a great scorpion. I will tell you, and it is not pretty, but: the world is full of those scorpions.

_The End_

AN: Yay! It is done! Um, yeah. Don't have much to say, I said it all up top. Just, review, please! Tell me what you liked, didn't like. I really want to know! Cause I can still change it before I turn it in! Review! Please!

43


	2. Glossary of Characters

5

AN: The Glossary of characters, as promised! If I missed someone, send me a message, and I shall explain.

**Glossary of Characters**

_Actaeon-_ A hunter who, after accidentally stumbling onto Artemis as she was bathing, was turned into a deer by the goddess, and killed by his own hounds.

_Amphion-_ Co-founder of Thebes, husband of Niobe, and father of Chloris.

_Aphrodite-_ The goddess of love and beauty. She was born out of sea foam near Cythera, and wafted towards Cyprus. She was married to Hephaestus, the god of the forge, though she preferred the arrogant and yet handsome god of war, Ares, to her lame husband. (Roman name: Venus)

_(Phoebus) Apollo-_ The god of light, truth, music, and healing. He plays the golden lyre, and is prominent in Greek poetry. He's known for his archery skills, and he was the first to introduce the world to healing. He is the patron of the famous oracle at Delphos. (Roman name: Apollo)

_Arachne-_ She boasted that she was a better weaver than Athena herself, angering the goddess. Athena proposed a competition between the two. Both woven cloths were extraordinary, but Arachne's depicted a mocking scene of the gods, so Athena tore the tapestry to shreds, and turned Arachne into a spider.

_Artemis-_ The goddess of the hunt and the night, and the patron of virgins and young maidens. She was Apollo's twin sister, and just as good in archery as he was. She was fierce and vengeful, and could be incredibly cruel when the chance arose. (Roman name: Diana)

_Atalanta-_ A great female hunter.

_Ate-_ Goddess of mischief, rash actions, and their consequences. She was thrown down from Mt. Olympus after troubling the gods, and continued to wreak havoc among men once down on the earth.

_(Pallas) Athena-_ The goddess of wisdom, peace, warfare, strategy, handicrafts, and reason. She was born from the head of Zeus (the main god), fully grown, and was his favorite child. Her companion, Nike, is the goddess of victory. Her patron city was Athens. (Roman name: Minerva)

_Chloris-_ Means pale or colorless, see Meliboea.

_Clytie-_ She was in love with Apollo, but he ignored her. She sat in a field, staring up at the sun all day, and became the sunflower, which is always turned to the sun.

_Daphne-_ A nymph, and daughter of a minor river god. Apollo chased after her, dazzled by her beauty, but her father turned her into a tree, the laurel tree, to save her from Apollo's unwanted advances. Forevermore Apollo wore the leaves from her branches on his head.

_Demeter-_ The goddess of the harvest. She was the mother of Persephone. Normally thought to be kind and giving. (Roman name: Ceres)

_Diana-_ See Artemis

_Dionysus- _God of wine. He married a mortal, Ariadne, whom the great hero Theseus had abandoned on a small island. (Roman name: Bacchus)

_Hades-_ God of the underworld and the dead, he kidnapped and married Persephone. (Roman name: Pluto)

_Helios- _Personification of the sun. He flies through the sky every day on his golden chariot. (Roman name: Helius)

_Hephaestus-_ God of fire and the forge. Husband to Aphrodite. (Roman name: Vulcan)

_Hera-_ Goddess of marriage, and wife and sister to Zeus. (Roman name: Juno)

_Hermes-_ Messenger god, and son of Zeus. (Roman name: Mercury)

_Hestia-_ The goddess of the hearth. The hearth was the symbol of the home, and it was where the offerings to the gods were made. She is not featured in any of the myths, but still plays an important part as a god. Offerings were made to her with every meal, and each city had a public hearth in her honor which was kept burning constantly. (Roman name: Vesta)

_Hygieia-_ Goddess of cleanliness.

_Icarus- _His father designed wings meant to be worn by humans, so they could fly. He was warned not to fly close too the sun, where the wings would melt, but Icarus did so anyways, and died.

_Ilithyia-_ Goddess of childbirth.

_Leto-_ The mother of Apollo and Artemis, who conceived with Zeus. Hera, Zeus' wife and the goddess of marriage, was angry at her husband's infidelity and charged all lands not to allow Leto to rest there. So Leto had to wander endlessly, unable to give birth. Finally, when Poseidon raised an island for her to give birth, Hera did not allow Illiythia, the goddess of childbirth to go to Leto. When Hera was swayed by a necklace from some of the goddesses, Leto was able to give birth to Apollo and Artemis.

_Mania-_ Goddess of insanity.

_Meliboea-_ The only daughter of Niobe and Amphion to be spared. She was so shocked from the ordeal, that ever after she remained pale, and was called Chloris (meaning "pale"). She later married Neleus, became queen of Pylos, and had many children.

_The Muses- _The nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (Memory).

_Calliope-_ The Muse of epic poetry, and mother to Orpheus.

_Clio-_ The Muse of history.

_Erato-_ The Muse of love-poetry, or erotic poetry.

_Euterpe-_ The Muse of lyric poetry.

_Melpomeme-_ The Muse of tragedy.

_Polyhymnia-_ The Muse of songs to the gods (hymns).

_Terpsichore-_ The Muse of the dance.

_Thalia-_ The Muse of comedy.

_Urania-_ The Muse of astronomy.

_Neleus- _Son of Poseidon, king of Pylos, husband of Chloris.

_Nike- _Goddess of victory, and Athena's companion.

_Niobe-_ The daughter of Tantalus, who angered the gods by trying to serve to them her brother, Pelops. She had fourteen children, seven boys and seven girls, and told the people of Thebes, her subjects to worship her, not Leto, because she had fourteen children, instead of just two. This greatly angered Apollo and Artemis, who shot her children. Apollo struck the sons with his quick and painful bows, and Artemis killed the girls with her soft and painless bows. Seeing her children killed, Niobe was so overcome with grief that she started crying, and could not stop. She turned into a stone that was always wet with tears.

_Orion_- A mighty hunter with great stature and beauty. He fell in love with the daughter of the king of Chios, and in return for her love, he cleared the island of all wild beasts. However, the king kept putting off the marriage. One day, Orion got drunk and insulted the girl, and the king asked Dionysus, the god of wine, to punish him. Orion was put into deep slumber, and the king blinded him. But, following an oracle's advice, Orion walked to the sun's rays and was able to gain his sight again. The king and his daughter had run away, though, and Orion went to Crete, where he was Artemis' loyal huntsman. But the time he spent with Artemis got her brother Apollo jealous, and he was slain by the great scorpion, Scorpio. After his death, he was placed in the stars as a constellation.

_Orpheus-_ Son of Calliope. He married Eurydice, but right after the wedding, she stepped on a poisonous snake and died. In an attempt to get her back, he pleaded with Hades, lord of the underworld. Persephone took pity on him, and let him take Eurydice back up, on the condition he didn't look behind to see her while walking back up. However, he did look back, and was forever separated from his wife. His grief ended up killing him.

_Pelops-_ Son of Tantalus, brother of Niobe. His father cooked him in a stew to serve the gods. The gods brought him back to life, and rewarded him heavily.

_Persephone- _Goddess of the spring and the underworld, wife to Hades, god of the underworld, and daughter to Demeter. She was kidnapped by Hades, the god of the underworld, to be his queen. With the loss of her daughter, Demeter was so distraught that the earth quickly became barren. Persephone was, in the end, allowed to come back for six months of the year, spring and summer. (Roman name: Proserpine)

_Poseidon-_ God of the sea, brother to Zeus. (Roman name: Neptune)

_The Scorpion-_ Also known as Scorpio. It was sent by Apollo to kill Orion. It was also made into a constellation, and still chases Orion in the sky. It became an astrological sign.

_Selene-_ Personification of the moon. (Roman name: Luna)

_Tantalus-_ Father of Niobe, and the person forever doomed to eternal thirst and hunger in the underworld, after sacrificing his son, Pelops, to the gods.

_Zeus-_ King of the gods, husband of Hera, and father to most of the Olympians, and many mortals too. He is god of many things, including the sky and weather, hospitality, punishment of injustice, and governance of the universe. (Roman name: Jupiter)

_Zethus-_ Amphion's brother, Niobe's brother-in-law, and co-founder of Thebes.

5


End file.
